All he needed
by Is0lde
Summary: Sometimes things just happen, and then perhaps it's best just to tag along for the ride. SLASH


**All he needed**

* * *

**Rating:** R-ish... but not that explicit.  
**Summary:** _"Fuck the past. Fuck the future. This is the present, and this feels incredible."  
_**Disclaimer:** Don't own anything, goddamnit.  
**Author's note:** For my maisirmoltesen, because I love her. Also, I don't care about non-existant vibes. I really don't. So before you comment saying you really can't see this happen, well, I already_know_. And I couldn't care less. There are quite a few more absurd pairings out there. So save your breath for cooling your porridge, yeah?

* * *

He was hogging the covers, rolling over on one side, grunting something about how the light was too bright, and that the curtains ought to be pulled down. But Soap didn't feel like accommodating his wish, he was reluctant to move; he was so close, lying next to him, that he didn't want to ruin the perfection of the moment.

Soap smiled faintly and moved his hand upwards carefully, lightly caressing the little hairs at the back of his lover's neck.

"Tom," he said, loving the taste of his name in his mouth.

Tom murmured something as a reply, not moving either.

"I don't want to get up."

Of course he didn't want to get up. He was right where he wanted to be. The bed all untidy like a stormy sea, clothes in piles all over the floor when he dared look down on it. Utter chaos surrounding them. The most perfect he'd ever experienced.

Tom stirred slowly, turning over to face him. Like a defence-mechanism, Soap looked for the smallest indication of embarrassment or general regret, but didn't find anything. Just a pair of clear blue eyes meeting his, the slightest grin on his lips. Always that grin. Inescapable, incomparable.

"And you think I want to? You should know better. But eventually we'll have to."

It wasn't as though either of them had planned for this to happen. It's just, sometimes things have a way of occurring without the people involved having any say in it.

The outcome could've been catastrophic or wonderful. And Soap felt a jolt of happiness and relief filling him up to the brim with warmth when he realised that he was basking in the aftermath of the latter. He gave a dramatically enhanced pained grimace and rolled over on his back, staring up at the ceiling. "I know."

"Not yet, though," Tom added, the look on his face thoroughly content. His grin widening, he moved closer, Soap sensing the heat of his body colliding with his own. Soap tilted his head slightly and Tom curled his hand around his neck, his fingers entwining in the mess of Soap's hair.

Alcohol fucks things up, big time. No matter what happens, the effect that alcohol has on the human psyche, the things that happen with a person's judgement after one or three too many pints, they always seem to manage to change things. Up until a couple of nights ago, Soap had thought that for something to change around him, there would have to be a sudden and unexpected apocalypse. But as it had turned out… alcohol didn't just create problems, but also solved quite a few of them.

He bore the past in mind as he opened his mouth, parting his lips to allow Tom access kissing him. The constant self-loathing that had plagued his existence. Seeing Tom flirt with everyone, just everyone, listening to him talk about how he could get this or that person on his or her back… and the way he could never just shut up when Bacon or someone else would ask him about the hickies on his neck or the scratch-marks just at the collar of his shirt, undoubtedly trailing down his shoulders and torso… thin, thin marks telling stories of passion that Soap didn't want to hear.

Now none of that mattered anymore. He found Tom's hand effortlessly wandering down his chest and abdomen, and shuddered; he would never get used to this feeling, and he didn't want to either. When everything's done on routine and you know exactly what to expect under all circumstances, there's no element of surprise. His feelings were, _hey, I could get used to this, but it would never get boring._ He kissed Tom back eagerly and bit his lip when he felt Tom's hand stroke him just the way he'd gone crazy when he'd done the other night, letting out a gasp as this was just too good to be true.

"Yeah, you like that, don't you?" Tom whispered amusedly midst kisses, his tongue like a persistent tornado. Soap closed his eyes, enjoying the moment to its full extent, memories coming back to him riding on waves of delectation.

Tom and Bacon. Flash. The sight of them together. Standing so close, when they thought no one was watching. Flash. Hands seeking hands. The sights and sounds you can experience if you're quiet and still enough. Making yourself invisible really isn't that hard, especially not when the people around you don't want to remember that anyone else exists. But that didn't matter anymore, either.

Soap wasn't looking for eternal love. He wasn't looking for that one person who was going to make it all better, make his life worth living. He'd managed on his own before and could carry on that way if he wanted to. But being with Tom felt just as good, if not better than he'd imagined, and that was really all that counted, right?

Sure, he'd been jealous of Bacon, and he'd been able to admit it to himself long before they'd been at all obvious in the way they were always checking each other out. The small things, Soap had always noticed details. But the jealousy had had as much to do with him just being lonely and miserable as with him wanting Tom for himself.

And who cared about details, really?

Advancing to heaven, seemingly soaring in the skies, Tom's hands and lips were the only things he could really feel anymore, and Soap moaned, exorcising all thoughts make more place for the pleasure he was feeling. When Tom touched him, just like this, inducing such bliss, both pulses racing from excitement, blood pounding and making everything blurry, he thought, _fuck the past. Fuck the future. This is the present, and this feels incredible._ Pushing himself into Tom's strokes unwittingly, arching his back, his hands closing around Tom's neck, nothing could possibly feel better than this.

His breath heavy, feeling his throat become all dry, he swallowed, and Tom laughed silently. He knew exactly the effect he had on Soap. They had done this just a couple of times, but he'd already learned what to do to make Soap as ecstatic and submissive as possible.

Soap resisted the urge to cry out as everything spun around him and his titillation peaked, sending darts of pleasure down his spine and all throughout his body. Tom seemed to be everywhere at once; in his mouth, in between his thighs, so close, and Soap realised he was holding onto him so tightly it must have hurt him, but he didn't have the presence of mind to care any longer. Tom didn't say anything about discomfort, rather looked pleased to receive such a compliment to his ego as the expression on Soap's face. He simply kept kissing him, letting him have his moment.

After the short instant of perfect bliss had ended, and Soap felt himself sink down, his body becoming heavy from exhaustion when the tension loosened its grip on him, Tom let go of him, rolling over on his back, hands behind his head, making himself comfortable. Soap just inclined his head and looked at him, noticing the snug expression on his face, unable to stop his mouth from contorting in a full-blown smile.

"Thanks," he said simply.

Tom had closed his eyes now and didn't open them to look at him, but he raised his eyebrows slightly. "For what?"

"For being here with me."

That was as far as he'd go admitting anything. He knew inflating Tom's ego further wouldn't be a good idea, because that would be handing over all the power to him, letting him take control completely over the situation. And that wasn't something he was prepared to do. He wasn't going to grovel, he wasn't going to _beg_ for Tom's attention. That was just beneath him. But he saw no harm in agreeing to the fact that this was the best thing in his life right now.

Tom, still with his eyes closed, smiled wryly. "Well, likewise, Soap. This is nice. I don't want to get up."

Soap laughed. "I think we pretty much covered that before."

Tom didn't reply to that. He just kept on grinning, his breathing becoming slow and even. Soap watched him just inhale and exhale, his chest heaving, until he grew tired of it, and pulled up the covers up to his chin, following Tom's example and closing his own eyes, images and pictures fluttering beneath his eyelids.

This was nice. It really was. However weird it had felt at first. However much it screwed things up. And however much he knew that this was as far as it would go, emotion-wise. That was okay.

This was all he needed.


End file.
